We’re So Stupid…

Kyle has the shingles…

I once had the shingles.

Do you know how rare it is to contract a case of shingles while under the age of 50? Very rare indeed. The odds that both Kyle and I would have them (I got them when I was just 18) are unreal. They’re not contagious, either, so it’s not like I gave them to him. He just woke up one day and bam! Shingles!

As soon as his doctor diagnosed the problem, he immediately put orange drops of something in Kyle’s right eye, to make sure the virus wasn’t spreading (which could cause blindness). It hadn’t spread. Good news.

Last night, however, Kyle felt a swelling and stinging on his right temple, and his eyes looked really bloodshot (like pink eye, which is a symptom of the shingles), and I was sure he was going more blind by the minute. He straightaway phoned his mom, who is our resident pre-doctor contact. She tells us if what we have is serious enough to warrant calling the doctor. (She qualifies for this role by–aside from raising four healthy children–having attended one year of nursing school back when she was 19. She may as well be our primary caretaker.)

The doctor wasn’t home. We phoned Kyle’s mom again. She said to go to the Emergency Room.

Now, going to the Emergency Room where I grew up (in America) is a big deal. If it’s the weekend and the doctor’s office is closed, we go to the Urgent Care (which is similar to the Emergency Room, but different). If the Urgent Care is closed, we bust out the Doctor’s Book of Home Remedies and try every–every–suggestion. But we don’t go to the Emergency Room. The Emergency Room costs a lot of money. You have to be almost dead to make it worth your while–in America. In Canada, though? Free.

So though I hesitated agreeing to the Emergency Room because of the “big huge deal” implications, I also didn’t want my husband to go blind.

We went.

I gotta say, I was not expecting it to be so…pokey. I know I live in a thriving town of 2,500 people, but I always assumed that since we are big enough for a hospital, there would be…I dunno…people there. The doors to the ER were locked, first of all. We had to ring a buzzer once, twice, three times, before the one and only nurse roused herself enough to let us in. Here Kyle was becoming more blind every second, and the one and only nurse would not let us in! I was just grateful it wasn’t a heart attack or something. He’d have died, freezing on the hospital steps. There’s irony for ya.

Next, Miss One and Only asked Kyle for his Alberta Health Card, which he’d misplaced years ago. I suppose free health care does come with its costs. In Canada, it’s not just a matter of copying an insurance card or looking him up in their system. Never mind that he was born in that very building. Never mind that health care is free in Canada–to all Canadians. She was bound and determined that Kyle needed to have his card.

“You wouldn’t go to the bank without your bank card, would you,” she asked smugly, as if she’d been waiting all night to use that line.

“Well, actually,” he replied, matching her smugness tone-for-tone, “I would if I didn’t have my card. They would just look up my account…in their system.” [Later I reminded Kyle that one can catch more bees with honey, and it would serve him well to be a bit…sweeter…when he’s asking favours of people.]

“One and Only” finally found Kyle in the system: “Sure enough! You are a Canadian! And you really were born in this hospital…”

About that time, doctor meandered around the counter from the break room, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, and sipping a steaming cup of something.

“This had better be good,” he mumbled, “because I’m on my way home.” My goodness. The doctor’s leaving?? What’s the point of an Emergency Room if there’s not always going to be someone to fix your emergency?

The good doctor was a bit annoyed that we came in *just* for the shingles–when we’d already seen a doctor about them. Evidently if the shingles are going to attack one’s ocular nerves and make that person go blind, it will happen straightaway. No dilly-dallying.

“Well,” I told him, “we aren’t really hypochondriacs. I tried my best to research this before we came here [to this joke of a hospital], but Wikipedia told me that pink eyes could be the first sign of vision loss…”

He muttered something about how computers and their accompanying technology are making every person an expert, and why did he even bother with medical school if people just used Wikipedia to diagnose their various “emergencies.”

I had no idea we would be so unwelcome at the ER. And the part that really gets me? There wasn’t even anyone else there to be helped! Why were we such a bother?

I don’t know, but let this be a lesson to you all…

Posted in fiascos, Married Life, mediocrity | 13 Comments

{Fame}

Back in the miserable month of August, I wrote about how the only thing getting me through the month was this hilarious kid. He’s gained international popularity for the three words he declared on the local news in Portland, Oregon last summer, “I Like Turtles.”

It wouldn’t be so funny, except for the fact that he was asked what he thought of his zombie face-paint job. Turtles had nothing to do with the matter. Anyway, there would be no sense in me revisiting the incident, except for this: The page I linked to in my original commentary, “The Washington Post,” linked back to me! I don’t know, I guess they have tech people working on figuring out who is reading their website. Anyway, they found my post and linked back to it! Isn’t that amazing? Go ahead…click here. Scroll down a bit. Just to the right of the fourth paragraph is a little box that reads, “Who’s Blogging?”

See that first link there? The one that reads, “Archives of Our Lives.” That would be me. You can click on it again if you want–it will bring you to the original post I wrote about the kid. It’s an entire mind-blowing network of link love!

I am tickled pink about this. And though I know it’s not really a huge deal, I kind of feel like I’ve won a Grammy.

Posted in blogger finger, like-it-link-it, Overall Good Things | 6 Comments

Goin’ Home…

I know, I know. I live in Canada now. It’s my home. Well, “They” say that home is where the heart is, and so in my case, I have homes all over the world. I’m quite divided as to where “home” is for me. Torn, really. I mean, my heart is here in Canada, of course, but still…so very much in Mesa.

But let’s not think about sad things like leaving home. Instead, let’s think about this: I’m going to Arizona soon! I knew I would not get to be there for Christmas, and I was kind of hoping Gwidon wouldn’t exit his mother’s womb until after I got there. Little punk that he is, he squeezed out all early on me. And now I’ve missed his first growth spurt, and his mother doesn’t know French, and I think she has plastic bottles in her house, which–aside from causing the child to have cancer–aren’t green. So I gotta get down there. I mean…I just have to.

Aside from being Preston’s new (and very temporary) nanny, there’s lots of other things I plan on doing when I get home to Arizona. Namely…

-Dragging Broadway and reminiscing about all the good times we used to have breaking into an abandoned warehouse.
-Eating Super Burrito carnes (if I have to explain what these are, you don’t deserve to know).
-Shopping at Target. Oh, Target.
-Hanging out at 5 E. Hillside.
-Visiting my grandparents. Maybe even the Texas ones…
-Going to the Scottsdale Fashion Mall, just for kicks.
-Buying 25 cent magazines at the Mesa Public Library.
-Renewing my Arizona tags on Tamra Camry.
-Going to Costco to look at the cheap cheese. And the cheap meat.
-Going to Costco for any reason at all, really.
-Spending a great deal of my time at the neighborhood QT. I really miss it there.
-Eating fresh, ripe, free (free!) citrus from my backyard. Okay, fine, it’s not my backyard anymore…but I’m pretty sure my mom and dad won’t mind.
-Going to church at the Westwood Ward.
-Staying up until 3 a.m. just so I can go shopping, and remind the Canadians how useful a 24-hour Wal-Mart really is (it’s one of the selling points for my “America-is-Slightly-Superior-to-the-Rest-of-the-World” campaign).
-Roller blading on the blissfully bare (read: snow-less) sidewalks.

Can you tell? I’m pretty hyped about this. I’m only packing one sweater, too. Out of spite. I figure one good thing about living in this frosty country is that when I go home to Arizona I might never–ever–need to wear a sweater.

**P.S. Preston made Jenny Biggs’ blog! Check him out here…he’s quite handsome, and it will be worth your while.**

Posted in family, nephew, Overall Good Things, the great state of AZ | 7 Comments

{Night on the Town}

Kyle and I have discovered a new form of newlywed recreation!!!

Don’t worry, this is rated completely G [anyone who knows me would not expect anything different].

We have started a tradition of a weekly date night…at The Auction.

The Auction is great and glorious fun. I have always been intrigued by the finger-snapping, wheeler-dealer type people who go to The Auction and come back with amazing steals. I have an uncle who once bought out an entire warehouse of running shoes at The Auction, figuring he could turn around and sell them on eBay for full retail price [spell check knows “eBay,” by the way]. Kyle and I each got a pair of sneakers for our wedding. And Christmas.

Another uncle bought a full sized school bus at The Auction. A different uncle is best friends with an honest-to-goodness auctioneer, with whom I had the pleasure of dining at The Outback once. He taught the whole group of us some tricks of the trade.

So, combining my Auction intrigue with my immense satisfaction in finding deals at yard sales and thrift stores, it is no wonder–absolutely no wonder–that I was delighted to attend my first real auction tonight.

My only {blood} relations in Canada, the people who–in a roundabout way–introduced me to Kyle, happen to be The Auctioning type. [They once bought a pallet of Jello packets at The Auction for, like…five dollars or something. They’ve been known to land a brand new stainless steel dishwasher for $75.00. Or something.] Anyway, since they are veterans of The Auction, they agreed to take Kyle and me under their deal-finding wings and show us the ropes. The two of us had such a splendid time, we’re going to try and become veterans ourselves. We want to go back every Tuesday, if possible. Make it a tradition, of sorts.

A summary of our loot:
-12 pack of lemon lime soda in glass bottles=$3.00
-4 bags beef jerky=$5.00
-1 bag of 18 miscellaneous chocolate bars=$5.00
-meat thermometer in original packaging=$10.00
-rectangular coffee table (just needs a good coat of paint)=$15.00
Total of all deals, after sales tax=$40.00

Spending two hours enjoying the company of family, observing other peoples’ “good deal joy,” and marveling at the acceleration of the auctioneer’s mouth…

…Well, that’s quite priceless (what other word would I use?).

Posted in Married Life, Overall Good Things | 6 Comments

{Truffleupagus}

I made truffles. That’s right–not a typo.

Inasmuch as I am not legal to work in Canada, and not eligible for in-province tuition prices, I basically spend my days thinking of things to do to entertain myself. I am not complaining–who wouldn’t want six months of completely free time to do anything she wanted? I have all kinds of fantastic ideas floating around in my head–home renovation projects, how I want to design our bedroom, what I am going to plant in my square foot garden come spring. I really am enjoying this phase of my life. {Explaining to other people what I do during the day, however…that’s a different story entirely.}

But I lost track of what I was originally talking about: truffles. Now, I have never to my knowledge eaten a truffle before, but I happened upon a recipe for them during my daily foray into the blogging world, and became obsessed with wanting to make them. I’ve had lots (and lots and lots) of Lindor Lindt Balls, but these are kind of different. Here’s the low-down, should you ever decide to make truffles of your very own:

Finely chop some baking chocolate (your favourite kind) and place in a mixing bowl. Then take whole whipping cream and pour into a stove-top pot. Heat the cream on the pot and when it’s almost boiling, remove from heat and pour into a mixing bowl over the baking chocolate. Stir the cream and chopped chocolate together until smooth (oh, so deliciously smooth). What you will have created is a ganache (guh-nawsh). [Watch the three-minute movie on the “ganache” link to see what it will look like.] After you have made your ganache and let it solidify, you can either roll it in straight cocoa powder and be done, or you can roll it around in straight melted chocolate and then in cocoa powder (thus forming a chocolate shell, similar to that of a Lindor Lindt Ball). Refrigerate in an airtight container and send them to work with anyone who will take them. This is when a husband comes in handy. For me, anyway.

Since I am not a food blogger (I know, I know–my blog has no defined purpose. It has an identity complex already, so don’t bring it up), I am not going to do beautiful step-by-step photos of the entire process. {Someone else already did that.} Instead, I will just show you the finished product:

Et voila! Bon appetit!
Posted in cooking, French | 6 Comments

{The White Board of Our Lives}

I would like to publicly announce that the situation on the home front is not as bad as I made it sound in my previous post. All right? Kyle and I are still married, and happily so. Yes, he’s played his Xbox 360 more frequently since Christmas, but that’s because we got two new games on or around Christmas. And he’s been on holidays from work, too. And, truth be told, I enjoy my fair share of Guitar Hero and Rock Band, too. (In fact, I just might be a more gifted rocker than Kyle…but I’m trying to mend my fences, not build vast walls. So I’ll leave that tender subject for a day when we’ve grown thicker skins.)

Aside from that, though, I’ve not got much to post about. Besides my amazing cinnamon rolls and surprisingly tasty truffles. Unfortunately, I would really like to post accompanying photos of those two culinary delights, so that update will have to wait, too.

The only thing I do have photos of right now is our white board. Kyle bought a white board shortly after moving into this house [about a year before we got married]. Even though at the time I lived in AZ and he lived in Canada, we talked on the phone at least once a day, and sometimes more. [The problem with that was…how much can you really talk about, after knowing a person so well for so long? Soon, I was compiling lists of things I could tell Kyle during our daily phone calls, so I could keep myself interesting to him, and consequently, he would not break up with me. (Ironically enough, it’s a system I used with lots of the guys I dated, and Kyle was the only one to keep up with me. He must have had his own list. That’s why I never felt compelled to break up with him–we never ran out of things to talk about.)]


But I digress. He bought a white board while we were not yet engaged, and since I was living far away from him, it happened to be one of the things he mentioned during one of our phone conversations. When he told me he bought a white board, I thought, “Oh, you should have gone with a chalk board. They’re much cuter.” Before long, though, I came up for a visit, during which Kyle proposed and we became engaged. After spreading the news to the world, it somehow ended up on the Whiteboard (we’ve always had a lot of people in and out of our home, and I’ve since lost track of who’s written what):

“Kyle has a girl frind,” it proudly proclaims, and below, as an afterthought, “go Camille!

And suddenly, the white board didn’t bother me so much. The next trip I made up to Canada was during the Christmas season, and one afternoon, tempted by the festive dry-erase markers, I left a surprise note for Kyle (which he never noticed until much later):


My two subsequent visits to Canada also occurred near various holidays, and I decided to keep with the tradition for Easter and Canada Day:



Someone else even joined in on the holiday cheer and added “Happy Halloween” to the mix (compliments of one “Maddy,” as you can see):


And scattered among the holiday drawings are random doodles created by neighbor kids whose parents ship ’em over here when they fancy a nap. Doodles like this:


They actually remind me of rudimentary cave drawings from the homo habilis era. Or something. I mean, look at that top one–doesn’t it look strangely like a sketch of Stonehenge? (I’ve been there, by the way. It was in…cred…i…ble.)

My favourite neighbor kid sketch is this one, though:

That’s right. “Yo yo yo dood.” It makes me feel right at home (read: Central Arizona), where our cinder block wall is always getting tagged (with poor spelling) by gangs. Eestside! Westside! Sowthside iz gunnu kik yo’s as!!!

And then came the era of the board that saw many house guests all at once: our pre-reception. A houseful of Americans; we were bound to get at least one declaring The Greatness that is our country:

That’s my sister’s writing. I can tell.

Then, someone saw fit to leave another pro-U.S.A. mark:

No wonder every other country in the world hates America. We’re so cocky.

I loved this note the driving friends left us on their way back to AZ (very clearly in Derrick’s writing):


But after all the house guests left, Kyle & I officially got married and took a honeymoon and things quieted down. We got into the routine of newlywedhood. We unpacked boxes and hung photos of ourselves. We’re in a groove. And when everything’s quiet around our house, and we reflect on the exciting events of the past few months, it’s nice to be reminded occasionally–we really are married:


Posted in change, Married Life, Overall Good Things | 5 Comments

Ring it In {The New Year}

One time I got married.

That was so many days ago [73]. So much has changed since then.

I’ve lost my new husband, you see. For a while I was the only thing with which he cared to spend his time. He had eyes only for me. The honeymoon was basically bliss, to be sure–as most honeymoons are. We returned from the lush tropics of the Caribbean and he was so helpful around the house. “Of course,” he assured me, “any time you cook dinner I will gladly do the dishes. It’s only fair, dear.”

“Of course we won’t be one of those boring married couples who only watch T.V. at night…”

“Of course we’ll still be romantic and…umm…tender.”

But those days are gone. Lost. Out of reach. Beaten. Never to return. They’ve surrendered to the worldly wiles of other, more inviting devices…

…Xbox 360, namely.

It was bound to happen sometime. Like after we have children and I am no longer able to retain my stellar physique [tongue-in-cheek, naturally]. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Two months married, is all. And already I’ve learned where I stand.

But don’t worry. I have begun to occupy myself with other pastimes. It is my goal to make certain all my dating friends understand what they are up against. “Hey,” I told one friend in particular, “you know all those nice things your boyfriend is doing for you right now? Rubbing your feet, going on walks, answering the phone when you call him? If you two ever get married, all of that will end. Just so you know.”

“What?” she exclaimed, “But…but…that’s so depressing!”

No. That’s life.

**Happy New Year! I am looking forward to sharing “Oh-Eight-the-Great” with all of you! Stay tuned for these stories and more; as long as the years keep coming, I will write about them!**

–C. P. S. Fairbanks

Posted in Married Life | 7 Comments